Affair
by kheelwithit
Summary: It is, to say in simple words, a letter. It is, to say in complicated words, her future.
1. Chapter 1

It is, to say in simple words, a letter.  
It is, to say in complicated words, her future.

Ka is at her bedside, his hands ready to console in a moment of grief that never quite makes it.

She examines cousin Kouen's seal at the bottom of the scroll in stamped red wax with a matter of fact sort of gaze, it's a contrast from the grief on Kobun's. Kobun can't stop it when it's already been done, so She don't really hold anything against him, She couldn't possibly when his arm is awkwardly wrapped around her, like it was when he first told her he'd make her into a beautiful princess just like she pretended her dolls were.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Cousin En's seal is at the bottom of the scroll in bold black brushstrokes. What she says, though, is not always what she means. What Kougyoku means, what Ka Kobun hears is that it's hers.

Her eyebrows furrow.

She's forlorn and tired all of a sudden. Dawn has just barely broken and Kougyoku glances out of the window that she frequently dreams of climbing out of with a knapsack. Just her and Ka Kobun and maybe Judar, with nobody to answer to.

"You can't try to run, Kougyoku." Kobun's voice is cutting in the silence of dawn. You continue looking out of the window because she knows she can't, she's just thinking about the times she could have, but didn't.

"I know." The second and fourth princesses tried to run. It ended badly, even when Kougyoku's considering that Kouha was sent to fetch them.

Had she not been so hesitant back then to leave En, She might have run away and left it all, all those times when she had to convince herself that her cousins had a use for her instead of trusting that clenching feeling in her chest, the one that says still, that this was his intention from the beginning, he didn't want her to fight, that he doesn't want or need her help, not when he has Kouha and Koumei. The one that says he wants to keep her safe, just like each and every one of the seven other princesses that he married off before her.

Maybe it's Kougyoku's fault, a bit, all of this? It was foolish to think that she'd be different, just because of her fluke dungeon anyways.

Some part of Kougyoku is curdling like spoilt milk. It's souring and distasteful, laughing because she finally did get what she wanted, didn't she?

Queen of Sindria.

That pretentious title will be bestowed upon her empty little head before the week is up, it's real. Just like the scroll says: not tomorrow, not when she's old and wrinkly- in seven days or less. It seems a little rude, maybe, that she aren't appreciating it- that all she can do is sit in her bed and bite back tear after tear after _useless_ tear.

"We should get you dressed, Princess." Ka Kobun's arm falls away in a whisper of silk and Kougyoku finds that she's a little colder.

* * *

There is a package by the door and on it is a small card with verdant inked script and gold filigree on the edges.

 _A Gift for the Princess._

 _S._

Princess is translated to my wife as gift is translated to proposal gift.

Kougyoku don't like it, that's all. It doesn't bleed into hate and in this situation, She could never enjoy whatever petty trinket is in there. But that could be the shock that doesn't really let her enjoy anything at all. She's grateful to it because there is much to do as a future bride and there is no time to be upset or to open presents.

Instead, there is a knock at the door to answer.

Of course, _She_ don't answer doors so much as her Ka does, to save from impropriety. He always checks the peephole of the door before he opens it, is too paranoid of people hurting her to do it straight out. Kougyoku takes the time to straighten herself up in her night chemise and look noble and detached instead of filled with trepidation and nauseating butterflies. At the door, there are soldiers. Soldiers in beige and green and gold hauling several trunks into neat stacks in front of her door.  
They do not come in, Ka Kobun blocks her from sight the second he creaks open the door, but the servants scurry out from the corners of the palace and haul the large trunks into her bedroom and the soldiers stay until her door is closed with an Kouish manner of clutching their hands together, like Kougyoku might her teacher, but without the bow behind it; an acknowledgement without submission.  
If Sindrian soldiers are here, they will have a representative and permission for entry into the Empire, given only to people of that country if there is a meeting.

Kougyoku accepts the inevitability of a day of life risking political endeavors and puts on her best Princess face to watch, with a discerning and quietly condescending eye, the servants as they bring in nine trunks, one by one by one, in perfectly equal spacing in front of her bed and scatter like they're unwanted vermin instead of what keeps the palace together.

It was foolish, definitely, to think a country so prosperous as Sindria would send only one box.

Now, though, she must prepare for her day. The sun is too far past the horizon for Kougyoku to be in her nightclothes. Even in the women's apartments of the palace, concubines and servants are buzzing about. She raises from her bed and the servants bustle in from the back door, when Ka Kobun rings the morning bell. He smacks his fan against his palm, rushing them even as they run.

Perhaps if this were a different day, she may have given in again and let him prepare her to his standard so he'd stop glaring at the poor creatures, but it takes time and she has none, today. Though they do not prepare Kougyoku as comfortably as Ka Kobun, they do it well enough. They bring tea for her that's too hot and the rice cake is too small, but she finishes it just the same as another servant scurries to the corner for a pipe before Kougyoku raises a hand, which is enough to stop her. Ka Kobun cannot tolerate her mistake, though it is as small as an ignorance to that she doesn't smoke. He takes her place instead with relief. He really is happiest when he does the work he wants to see done. A basin of hot water for her face with peach soaps comes out and Ka Kobun sees to scrubbing her face, his hands rolling up his sleeves and he grips her face brusquely.

The servants stare at the impropriety; Kobun is not a softly spoken eunuch, but a man who may take girls to his bed if he will. Kougyoku glares at them with all her might; Ka Kobun would never, he has only ever been concerned for her safety more than all of them.

Ka Kobun's eyes are piercing in their focus on her face and it scares the servants into obedience and lends a measure of calm to her. He says nothing but to instruct the servants.

"Honey." Kougyoku make a face, Ka Kobun's lips quirk up. She's always hated being sticky and the honey comes straight from the honeycombs and is drizzled onto her hands in porcelain bowls delivering her straight into an almost torture because being so sticky drives her nearly mad with the need to get clean again. Ka's hand on her shoulder discourages her from just twitching, no matter how she want to. He rubs some, much less, on her cheeks and Ka Kobun waves them to the closet to pick something for her.

"I will take something green today." Kougyoku calls out from her place in the chair. Ka Kobun ignores her, but she knows he's just pretending to be in control here; her choice is good and he will abide. He busies himself with a table by her bedside and hauls it up over his shoulder in all his finery without letting it so much as brush before he lets it down right beside her and sets a makeup tray on it and sets to mixing her paints. When she was young, someone put poisons in her powder and since the weeks in bedrest she took, he's become adept at doing it himself.

He kneels before her, a motion that he takes every time as he prepares Kougyoku for her day and a motion Kougyoku's always liked to think means more. His nearly imperceptible, but nevertheless semi permanent scowl clears away and his mouth falls open the slightest bit in his focus. The tattoo on his face emphasizes his slightly crooked nose and she is absently proud for having such a handsome, faithful attendant as Ka Kobun.

Kougyoku's eyebrows are darkened and he lines her eyes with kohl from his own homeland, something which always makes her eyes look as wide as apricots and as lovely as the women of legend. Her mouth is painted with a slim brush tipped with pink that tastes like honey, mint and concentrated pigment.

Ka Kobun snaps and the servants make all of the canisters of paint disappear with them, reappearing with her combs and hair flowers and brushes and pomades. Kougyoku very carefully do not lick her lips and settles back in her chair. Ka Kobun cannot do her hair alone, there's just too much of it. He is, grumpily, forced to share his duties with servants who are just as grumpy to be asked to do this, which has been the job of an old serving maid fallen ill in only the last few days. Ka Kobun snaps at them loudly, flapping his grand yellow sleeves about and threatening meaninglessly, because when it does not come to his progress, his princess or his pride, he is softhearted. All of the maids gather around her, Ka Kobun at the center of her back directs them to comb gently and with all of them, Kougyoku is done quickly. There is no time for her complex looped hairstyle and it would be improper to wear what is usual on a day that is not.

This day, She will wear it will little complication; She will have a side bun. Kougyoku says so.

"I will have a side bun."

After a brief moment of frenzied panic where nobody seems to know one of the most common noble hairstyles. someone in the crowd shoves a little slave girl forward and the poor thing clumsily lands on her face before scrambling into a pathetic semblance of grovelling before her.

"Rise and do as you are bid." Kougyoku does not know for sure that she does know how to when she sees her, but Ka Kobun does not move and Kougyoku remains cool as water.

Her own hair is mousy and brown, falling in knots and snarls like a beggar man's and so it is a surprise when her creation has not a hair out of place. Ka Kobun is pleased and hands her a slip of paper before he shoves her towards the vanity.

"Go fetch the tray of hair accessories in the corner." And that is as much approval as she will get, but Kougyoku and him both are impressed at her skills. Kougyoku's bun, in the mirror standing ahead of her, is very fine indeed. Not a hair out of place, plaited perfectly and the rest over her shoulders.

"In a few days, you will wear it off of them." Ka Kobun says. Kougyoku grits her teeth.

She comes back quickly, her eyes downcast and the tray, she sets atop Kobun's little night table cum vanity.

On this tray there is jewelry only for her hair and of it, with a few glances to the clothing which the servants have left on her bed, She holds a golden magpie pin out for Ka Kobun's inspection. He tsks and swipes it out of her hand. There is a jade pin of gold peonies and a peacock, whose feather's eyes are gold as well and this one, he slides on the top of her bun and on the bottom, there is another one, with rows of golden beads wrought into chrysanthemums and pearls that are of the finest quality and these are the only ones he will approve of. There is a tray beside that one that escaped her notice in the barrage of them and from it, Ka Kobun gives Kougyoku no opinion; they must be running out of time. There are jade disks which dangle from her ears and white jade for each of her wrists before she dresses.

And it is an ordeal that does go quickly, considering how many things there are to bedeck herself with.

Ka Kobun steps in front of Kougyoku's chair when the time comes to pick out her clothing and shouts no to four of them before she gets to see them, even and she supposes it's less work for her with little sadness.

The daxiushans are gone, the ruquns gone, chang'aos the same. Ka Kobun has left her only with diyis, which are the highest dress for her stature. It is meet, if this is her engagement day. He chooses only the second most grand of these and She giggles because of it; her Ka Kobun is too cautious.  
Surely this thing cannot compare to the dress of the Empress. Still, better to be safe than sorry. Kougyoku waves her hand at the darkest green and she figures that she will flatter her home to be. If she must go, she will make a favorable impression.

Ka Kobun does not, to her shame, order everyone away when Kougyoku is ready to dress he sets them to cleaning up the room and in a quieter voice he thinks she will not hear, packing up necessities.

Then, he, with little ceremony, stands her up and proceeds to strip Kougyoku of her nightdress, so that she is bare before him. Your powder cannot hide the redness of her face.

"If you cry, the kohl will run." And that is as much comfort as she gets in words, though Ka Kobun shields her again from gazes that are focused on their tasks only.

Ka Kobun raises dress off and she sits again immediately, eager to curl up to preserve her modesty and ignoring that Ka Kobun's holding stockings.

"No, stand. Hold your leg out for me and put on your shirt." Kougyooku doesn't have much balance, but she has the back of the chair to depend on and Ka Kobun is already pulling her ankle up with one hand and handing her the zhongyi. Kougyoku can only put it on one sleeve at a time, but she manages, no matter how hard it is to focus with someone's hand stretching soft silk over her milky legs.

Kougyoku finishes putting on her top excepting the tie, which she cannot do with one hand and Ka Kobun's rough fingertips stretch her other stocking over her leg carefully, slowly. She focuses on keeping her teeth from digging into her painted lips.

Kougyoku snatches it back as soon as he's done and if he knows what he's done, he knows enough not to speak of it.

He ties her shirt for her as she wrap around her first skirt and then her slim petticoat on top of it.

He whorls the shan about her shoulders and the qun she takes care of, tying it appropriately now that she's got use of two hands. The darker ru twirls around as Ka Kobun holds it up for a last inspection and it turns the light that shines through it green on the tile floors for a second. Kougyoku holds out her arms and Ka Kobun settles it on her with unnitpickable perfection. She ties the belt perfectly and smooth out the wrinkles as Kobun fetches her satin slippers.

Kougyoku glances around her apartments at the busy maids bustling about and the useless eunuchs who rightfully let Ka Kobun handle everything and is a little startled when Ka Kobun goes to his knees before her and Kougyoku looks away because even after all these years, no matter that it was her choice, her feet were taken too soon from their bindings as a child and so they have grown too large, too manly no matter that they are soft and pedicured. Ka Kobun does not bother with telling Kougyoku that there is no shame in sacrificing beauty for the use of battle; there is no time. And besides, Kougyoku can hear the echoes of him doing it every other day and he knows it. She is steadfast in ignoring the thoughts, then. These fine green slippers with pearls and peacocks on the heel are good enough for her. Kougyoku is a princess, and better than most because she is not helpless.

Kougyoku remembers this as Ka Kobun holds Vinea out for her through the folds of his robes, politely never touching her pin.

Ka Kobun slides her behind the peacock pin and the confidence Kougyoku was faking is real.

She holds her hand out to Ka Kobun daintily and he bows to his princess as he takes it. Kougyoku stands and the servants bow and the slaves bow lower.

"Rise." her voice rings clearly and they obey hesitantly.

"I thank you for you kindness this day."

And then Ka Kobun and she opens her chamber doors and leave the bewildered palace servants behind her.

* * *

Ka Kobun is the only one to walk ahead of her, her entourage of officials are behind Kougyoku in two perfectly aligned rows of three do not encourage Kougyoku forward like he does; Ka Kobun's back has always been a great comfort to her, broad and strong, hiding her when she needs protection and still and warm when she wants to lean against it with sorrow or exhaustion. Kougyoku's made it through the palace halls only by following it, step by step.

And she will follow it again, into the conference room, where the courts of Kou will watch her sign her life and allegiance away. To keep herself safe. They will watch her cower away when her empire needs her most.

Ka Kobun stops and she takes a step further ahead, wrecking the symmetry of her group. Kougyoku does not step back; her Ka Kobun is all that keeps her here and she fears what will happen if she leaves him.

The Entourage makes up her mistake in haste only to save their own heads as the doors open, soundless and foreboding.

Kougyoku follows Ka Kobun's back and does not dare make a mistake, lest her head leave her shoulders.  
Kou does not take kindly to people who disgrace them in front of foreign dignitaries.


	2. Chapter 2

_Everyone_ in Kou fears the Empress. Nobody is exempt; not Kouen, not Koumei, not her late Emperor, not Kougyoku.

Kougyoku especially and in a primal enough way that it makes her djinn squirm and say

 _Run._

Even if the Empress did not bring with her half of Al-Thamen's known group that chokes everyone with a miasma that reeks like stale secrets and fear and sick, clinging illness that makes Vinea hiss and everyone weaker than that want to wretch and sweat her presence out of their bodies, even if she did not have all of that, she would still kill any member of Kou if any gave her a quarter of a chance. All that stops her from doing it anyway is that the stir that it would make is not worth the twenty or so seconds it would take to lay them dead on the ground. She has goals, though, that she could accomplish with or without any of the empire here.

The Empress sits in the throne that everyone knows is stolen from En and watches with an appraising eye, but a malicious spirit that makes Kougyoku's posture perfect out of fear only.

The officials in stands around the room still flutter their fans, the guards at the main door, bring out a pair of red mallets each and large drums which they play, announcing the first step to the crowning of the Queen of Sindria steadily and heavily and again, again, again.

In this room, Kougyoku was brought before the late Emperor and her title was bestowed upon you.

In this room, Kougyoku is brought before a thief, a murderer and a liar to have it pretend to be stripped. This woman is not her rightful Emperor; she cannot strip a title she has no authority to.

There is something about court play that Kougyoku has learned to need. When she plays it, things get less personal and the world clears up like the sky after a storm.

When she fears for her life, things start to come together and the clouds clear away.

Technically, Kougyoku will be called princess anyways, she'll just be engaged, but she's beginning recognize Gyokuen's admittedly good power play for what it is. Brother En would send her on a 'vacation' if it was in his power, but she isn't coming back when it's safe. This is not his move and Kougyoku is disappointed in herself for the lack of trust. The culprit is who it always is, she should have figured.

 _ **Run.**_ Vinea's warnings are ignored as they ever are. She is her own master and their complaints come with your fear which are not.

The culprit and the liar and the murder and the thief will kill her now, if she doesn't bow. This is what Kougyoku thinks so she can kneel without Vinea's now constant thrum convincing her to rush to an early death. She's learned what battles she cannot win, but there is no harm in letting Vinea frost her pin so that Gyokuen may see it and her hatred to her as she touches her head to the hem of Gyokuen's dress.

She feels like she's putting her head in the cradle of a guillotine.

"Most glorious Empress of our Empire."

Behind her, Ka Kobun is bowing lower and Ka Kobun exaggerates his breathing, trying to remind her not to hyperventilate like a terrified ten year old. She does not need it.

Right now, there is only action and appropriate reaction; poise and grace and manners and survival.

 _ **And escape.**_

Only when the sickness around her chokes Kougyoku so thoroughly that Vinea is pulsing in her, like a sonar from so far below the lonely depths and sweat and melted frost gather on her neck, does she raise up, her eyes still downcast and she's still bent at the waist.

She could turn around and walk away from the Witch, but she chooses not to show her her back because she cannot be trusted with it.

 _ **You have power, use me.**_

Each whisper is punctuated by the drums, both outside and in.

There are more to bow to, but they will not take so long. They don't hold Kougyoku's life on a string and she does not need to impress them because they will never be impressed by a young woman who is to be engaged, even if she has conquered more power than they will ever have.

To bow to the courts, she must put your back to the Empress. And because she must put her back to the Empress, who else is there but Ka Kobun, to guard it with his own.

The courts bow to her in return and she knows she looks just mildly disgusted enough to make it clear through layers of custom and courtesy that she'd rather kill them than be grateful to them. They, of course, return the sentiment. Their fans snap open and flutter wildly in undisguised disgust. They may as well be screaming to hang her until dead for things they do not understand. The pulsing is clear now, loud enough to make her head pound. Kougyoku purposefully doesn't clench her fists.

There is a war planning table in the center of the courtroom where they will engage Kougyoku. She considers the irony that they will offer love at the same table, and to the same people that they will offer war and murder to. She stop considering the irony right after she starts considering what she's done to the Empress to make her send her to a land scheduled for destruction by Gyouken's own hand. Then she stop considering that too because it's not what she's done, it's what Kouen's done.

The downside to having a family is that people can use it against you.

Kouen is less skilled than she is in court, of all things, as the first prince. All of his life, it has been so that when he asks, he receives. He is beloved, feared, respected without ever having to lift a finger. Never has he had to play court and grant favors and search out assassins and so he is naive enough to cast Kougyoku a mistake of a look when she bows that is nothing short of apologetic that she would never make. The apology stays for less than a second and it is hard again, unrelenting and unreadable and demanding she understand that which she can't out of ignorance, which means she must trust that he has a plan. The next pulse is hard enough that Kougyoku drops to her knee harder than she wanted to and it throbs in time with the next pulse.

Kougyoku doesn't really want to hear any more of Kouen's plans, she's not sure anymore, if they're good ideas.

She wants to return that second of apology as she stands; it's warranted. Her lack of foresight turned into a rift of distrust in one of the only people who care for her. She doesn't, though, because there are many, many rifts of trust towards Kouen and there have been since Balbadd. Kougyoku doesn't really believe she believes in him anymore.

She feels insincere in your bow with Vinea stirring restlessly in every fibre of her being.

Kouen sees it and his gaze is unrelenting all the same. She still does not understand.

 _ **Your will is mine.**_

Vinea's thumping, their noise is discordant with the drums dizzying and nauseating with the will that is not her own.

There is a seat, several feet from the war table and it is where she will sit. It's to the left of Kouen and to the right of the seat where Sindria's representative will sit. Ka Kobun is already behind it, his stare is beckoning to her, promising reprieve and reward that she needs. Kougyoku takes her seat and Kouen is not so bad at court games that he looks at her again.

A man reads off attendance in a monotone voice, droning on with the beat and everyone is thoroughly sick of his existence before he hits the 'b's, but he continues. Once he is done, this will be over and the representative will be welcomed in.

"Now remember, children. Don't disappoint your dear Empress, okay?"

Kougyoku is several feet from the Empress and she's certainly sitting upright, but she can almost feel the blade at the back of her neck and the wood cradling the front of it.

Vinea does not like it at all and something she has never known occurs.

Vinea moves her. Her tongue moves in her mouth against her will and the words that they struggle against her to form make you nauseous.

 _Spirit of Sorrow and Isolation; Dwell in my body, Vinea._

 _ **Your will is mine.**_

There are sparks of will in Kougyoku, which are downtrodden and shoved into thoughts that she doesn't pay attention to, and those thoughts are the those that involve independence.

 _ **Just you and your man and the magi.**_

Vinea sends ice through your veins with the cold passion which rocks you like the tide, resuscitating those small useless sparks of rebellion unwillingly, taking her will to grant her a greater power perversely as their own and she has never let anything be taken from you so easily, let alone when it is your life and the life of your Ka Kobun behind you when the Empress is in this room.

Kougyoku will not be ruled by her fear. Vinea makes her thighs twitch, begging to differ.

Kogyoku wiggles her hand out of her sleeve, tapping on the armrest silently and rapidly, and she's thankful that Kobun didn't exaggerate when he claimed to have eyes like a hawk. She crosses her legs at the ankle tightly, struggling to remain calm and keep her appearance poised while being observed at three hundred and sixty degrees by men and one woman who want her dead in a puddle of her own blood. If she doesn't, she'll fulfil their dreams before they day is out.

Kougyoku shakily traces out a 'v' under Ka Kobun's gaze, riding out the spasms in a way that must be similar to trying to break a damn stallion for the way it leaves her cramped and exhausted. But Ka Kobun cannot understand an incomplete message, so she keeps cramping and fighting even though she's just running out of anything to _give_ and her shoulders jerk in the chair, unexpected.

Someone glances at Kougyoku,

and then back to the attendance marker, who has called his name.

She struggles though 'i-n-e-a' before an incident occurs like that again and Ka Kobun's eyes widen in understanding.

Vinea is screaming at her so loud that she can't hear anything else outside herself anymore and that screaming turns to mocking, a thousand different voices in one djinn chuckling at her foolishness, thinking she could win against her own will, what she really wants. Ka Kobun's gaze. it says he _can't_ _help_ _her_ , she's in the middle of a crowd; if he removed the pin from her hair, someone would remove his head from his shoulders. Kougyoku can't let that happen anymore than she can commit suicide by holding her breath.

She's about to commit suicide.

Vinea takes control of her legs, they're mysteriously numb and she can see her leg sliding around the leg of the chair, her gaze moving where she don't want it to, moves to Kouen's household and their swords at their sides..

Death does not come with calm acceptance. Tears are burning her eyes and she thinks of the kohl that will run and Kougyoku denies this because she is not ruled by fear, she cannot be. Her lips form those words again.

 _Dwell in my body, Vinea._

The drums stop and the court is in silence and her body pushes itself up and her painted lips open.

The doors open. Everyone bows to Sindria's representative. Kougyoku included.

"Your highest Majesties."

 _Oh? This one is fine, then._

And just like that, the torture of speeding drums disappears,, the numb feeling that accompanied Kougyoku's loss of control is gone. Vinea is as placid as a still lake, the uncomfortable soreness in her body the only evidence they ever fought against her in the first place.

She reigns in her confusion quick because her trial is only halfway done.

Ka Kobun behind her hisses nigh silently, a noise which only accompanies danger. Kougyoku dares a glance to the representative's face, just one, and knows why at once.

The last time she saw this man, he spat in Ka Kobun's face and she thought herself recently deflowered.

Prime Minister Ja'far looks just the same.


	3. Chapter 3

"Shall we?"

The Prime Minister's voice is quiet from the doorway, nothing but a murmur and he steps to the side, holding a door as his men walk through, coldly looking forward into the court.

Kougyoku has forgotten, in the midst of the weighty thought that she will go back to her favored vacation spot permanently, that Sindria has allies under them; the sixmost advanced countries to avoid being swallowed by Kou's greedy maw.

Imuchakk, Sasan, Atermyra, Heliohapt and Reim ambassadors stand in a perfect line. The Prime Minister is defiant without a single motion to support it when he comes to the head of his soldiers and to his seat where he sits silently.

They say nothing, but evoke the Seven Seas Alliance maxim regardless;

Don't invade, don't be invaded.

Gyokuen's plans are not clear to be, nor have they ever been, but there has never been a day where she did not intend to invade every nook and cranny in existence and not even this reminder of might from the only group to stop Kou in it's tracks will scare her into remission like the disease she is.

"First Prince Kouen."

"Prime Minister."

There are many differences Kougyoku notices between these two men; her beloved, estranged cousin and the Prime Minister, but cleverness is not one of them. Calculatory eyes search for weaknesses ruthlessly and she knows neither of them will find anything.

Kouen waves his hand, suddenly and the Prime Minister leans back in his chair and she thinks they have reached an accord of some sort, something Kouen's planned and the Prime Minister has expected. A servant scurries forward, an armful of scrolls neatly obscuring his face before he sets them down carefully. Kouen makes another mistake by acknowledging him.

They read scrolls under the court's watchful eye.

The Empress exaggerates a yawn.

Kougyoku's body is tired, sore and exhausted. Her back is damp under her zhongyi with drying sweat and the not safe safety in knowing that a somnolent look is close enough to demure that she need not appear otherwise and can save herself the effort and energy under her Ka Kobun's eye because he will tell her always, if she should be aware.

When she must, Ka Kobun's leg bumps against her chair and Kougyoku looks to the war table. The stack of documents has been transferred from one side to another except for one black scroll, which lies open between them, Kouen's jaw clenched in what is probably annoyance at being last to finish.

A priest comes out and it must be of Kouen's choosing because he does not wear a white veil and crown of thorns. Rather, he is new, newly recruited, probably, to make sure that the woman on the throne cannot meddle here. Kougyoku can tell because even though he comes from the side of Gyokuen herself, he fumbles, nearly sending a wooden box clattering to the floor. Kouen pinches the bridge of his nose aggravated that this will be the last anyone will ever see of him after all of Kouen's work and it will be that much harder to find a replacement.

The contents of the box are blocked from her sight because Kouen takes from it first, when she can see what's outside of the box, it's in his hands; a pitch knife. In the low light, it looks sinister and Kouen is careful with it.

The Prime Minister has no such qualms when the poor, shaking priest pushes the box to him. When he holds it, the knife looks innocent and he sinister instead, his chin tilted up, appraising the weapon like a fine work of art.

"A work of art, your majesty." Kougyoku wonders if the Prime Minister always looks so sly and wicked and is glad he should not look on her often.

"Only by the finest." Kouen dismisses it and there is tension in his jaw when he spills blood from his own hand, a quick cut over the palm of his hand, which he thrusts over a bowl with noticeable impatience and distaste. Kouen has always liked a fight, but blood loses it's appeal when Al Thamen's witch has it in her sight. The Prime Minister draws the knife over his palm with the near reverence this ceremony demands and Kouen neglects.

The knives are placed back into the box and when he holds his hand over a hastily placed bowl, courtesy of the shaky, doomed priest, he lets his wound drip almost thoughtfully and Kouen's temple twitches with his hatred of useless niceties for good long seconds before the priest bows to them and takes the bowl away to take it to a temple before he must go to his death at Gyokuen's hand. Kougyoku uselessly hopes that Kouen will pull him from her clutches in time.

A medic sweeps in past her, hasty and measured and likely determined not to lose her head. A tray of bandages she extends to Kouen first, who takes one happily, wrapping gauze around his palm several times and tying it one handed. The Prime Minister does not take one, and the medic is confused, hesitant and stuck between insistence she does her job and the rudeness of letting a guest's wound go untreated, which will surely bring her grief. The Prime Minister waves her off with his unbloodied hand, smiling softly and the wicked air around him is vanished, nothing but the mothering gentleman Kougyoku saw in Sindria. He shakes his head.

"Far be it for a little cut to cause me pain. I would not waste resources when such a thing may heal on its own."

Kouen, Kougyoku sees, immediately despises his anemia and wishes he might not have taken the bandage and the medic stays, shifting on her feet until you can hear a tiny, muffled little sniffle.

The Prime Minister sighs and it's a little benevolent, a little patronizing.

"If Kou is so kind about treating the wounded, I will see of speaking to my King on negotiations again. Such kind medics must say something is salvageable in such a place." He holds his hand out and the medic's shoulders slump as she holds the tray out a little closer so he can take a bandage for himself.

The medic rushes by her again and is gone and she watches Kouen watching the Prime Minister slowly, tightly wrap his splayed hand, as practiced as Kouen in tying it.

Then, when he is finished, Kouen stands. The Prime Minister does too.

"Eighth Princess Kougyoku. Rise."

And now it is her turn. If there was exhaustion, tiredness earlier, it isn't there anymore. Kouen's deep voice draws her up like a snake to its charmer and she does not have to think, to fumble for grace. It comes to her and stays in every step she takes towards them, to the edge of the table.

Back straight, shoulders level, chin up, eyes down. Balancing humility with pride; submissive but not weak.

The Prime Minister circles Kougyoku in a manner that may be found in sharks and blood and she has to force the butterflies to vanish from her stomach under the close scrutinization. He touches her hair, his fingers never so much as brushing her skin, but already, she can't help but shiver as he curls a lock of it around his finger. There's a relief Kougyoku can taste when he lets it fall and she is fool for thinking it over. The Prime Minister takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger gently, tilting her head up towards him and she keeps her eyes down and if it's because she's afraid or being proper, she does not know. The Prime Minister's breath smells like mint tea and he is closer than any but her Ka Kobun have been. Kougyoku is distinctly aware of the roughness of his fingers.

"May she speak?" There is nothing to this comment but court manners, but it almost brings the nerves back, almost makes her dumb and mute with them like a trapped, wild animal.

"She may if you will it." Kouen states waving his hand towards her carelessly and she hopes he does really care a little.

"Do you remember me, Princess?" This man was not so softspoken with Kouen. He couldn't have been because this low, damnably close to _sultry_ tone would have had him rejected and thrown to the dungeons except when he uses it now, to Kougyoku, nobody stops him.

Her face burns and she keeps her eyes down still, daring to look no further than the black stitched diamonds on his collar. She is aware of exactly how much taller the Prime Minister is and would not breathe even if she could.

"I do, Prime Minister. It has been a long time, I hope you are well." Kougyoku speaks carefully.

"I am. Your cousin's empire is a novel place and has welcomed me well." The Prime Minister is bold, improperly so as he brushes his thumb across her cheek, quick and light as a hummingbird. Kougyoku suddenly remembers how to breathe with a shuddering, silent exhale and she will not acknowledge that it's simply because there's nothing left to do with herself. Her eyes flutter shut as her ideas of posture and propriety fly out the window just as his hand leaves her face.

When she open your eyes, he is not looking at her, but back to Kouen who looks as if he might spit venom, no matter that the Prime Minister is the one who is serpentine.

"Was she bound, First Prince?" There is a measure of trepidation in his tone and Kougyoku does not know Sindria or this man well enough to tell what it may be directed at. Horror settles in her stomach, right alongside disgust in herself and humiliation.

"No. Among her eight sisters, she is the only one who is not." And it only grows larger with every word Kouen speaks.

"And why?"

"She was the only one to ask to fight." The Prime Minister laughs out loud now; a quick exclamation of what could be called wonder or bewilderment before he holds his sleeve before his smile, looking away sheepishly and schooling his face into something more proper for courts. Behind him, a few of the other ambassadors chuckle.

Still though, from what Kougyoku can see of him as he looks at Kouen, his eyes are bright and wide. He whips around, looking to her after she directs your gaze to the floor, near enthusiastic.

"This one, then, was the smartest. There is no need for pretty ornaments with empty heads and idle hands, not in Sindria." And he speaks to Kouen, but his words are directed at her, who can only try not to let the compliment go to her head and keep her wits about herself while he moves behind her with a quiet swish where Kougyoku think he looks upon her curiously and she cannot think what could be in his interest there and is glad when he moves back into her sight, though she knows better than to relax.

"Why not look me in the eye, Princess?" The Prime Minister is anything but unkindly and she is hesitant before she speaks, conscious of every combination of words that will end her life.

"I aspire to be a good wife, Prime Minister. It would be unbecoming."

The Prime Minister drops his hands from his face.

"Yes, of course. Now, we're running short on time, so I hope you'll excuse me if I proceed." You bow your head further because there is no need for words to give permission of what is already allowed.

"You know your duties as a wife and queen?"

"Yes."

"You will perform them?"

"I will."

"Then I have all I need of you." Sindria's Prime Minister, Kougyoku notices, is either very trusting or someone who hates the waste of time. His robes billow behind him while he hurries, too quickly to be proper, to the Empress' throne. He stops before her, his hands sinking into the sleeves of his robes.

How little say she has.

The Prime Minister speaks to everyone in the court in a booming volume she would not have thought to hear from him.

"I accept the offer of Princess Kougyoku's hand on behalf of Sindria and my lord and King of Sindria, Sinbad. The dowry has been negotiated and set; the delivery will be immediate. The eighth princess will leave Kou by tonight if you allow, Highest Empress."

Gyokuen flexes her fingers on the arms of the throne.

"Please, little Minister, let me be rid of this troublesome, weak thing whose beauty is so far below real royalty she may be mistaken for a misplaced animal." A scowl is thrown her way and the air crackles with electricity so tangible that the court can see Gyokuen's hair float around her like a black, reaching halo and sparks fly between the spears of the guards in the room. A bolt cracks in the air and the shaking priest beside her drops to the ground, chest jarring.

Nobody moves to help him and nobody thinks of it as an accident.

"I'm just so- so _happy_ that you will make off with her to your playhouse kingdom I will add a box of gold to the dowry myself!"

The court is silent and Kouen's blunt nails are digging into the table.  
The Prime Minister is unruffled.

"I can only thank you for your overwhelming generosity, your greatness."

And this Prime Minister turns his back on her, collects his papers neatly and hands them off one of his men. Then, he sits down at the war table again and Kouen's men clear away his own paperwork while the court shuffles out of the room, Empress first, and to the one across the hall, where Kougyoku's engagement party will be held.

She will not attend, so it's closer to a goodbye party.

Ka Kobun has lagged behind, next to the door but never through it until everyone is gone and he runs to her as soon as they are and sweeps Kougyoku right off her feet, his strong hands holding her up a good few inches so he can see eye to eye, make sure she's as all right as he'd like.

She's not nearly, shaking a little, now it's all over, so you suppose there's good reason for him to hold you like he used to when you were young. Ka Kobun understands you perfectly, and he does what only he can and crushes you to his chest, which smells of incense and soap until your ribs creak and you enjoy every second before he loosens his grip and you hold him a few seconds more even after he sets you down as he smooths his palms down your back and drops a kiss to the top of your head that's unlike anything but you and your Ka Kobun.

When you are done, you face the Prime Minister and his men proudly and you dare anyone to make a comment about your improprieties.

"Come, Princess, we have much to do before tonight." The Prime Minister nor any of his company so much as twitch towards it and because you are beginning to realize the extent of the freedom with which affection flows with these Sindrians, you hold fast to Ka Kobun's hand.

The Prime Minister surveys calmly with eyes as unreadable as Kouen's have ever been, then nods his head towards the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Kougyoku comes back to her room, empty of everything but the bed, the wardrobe and the seven, heavy, lacquered boxes.

For a moment, she stands in the middle of her room like it's somewhere foreign. Kougyoku forgets that this is where she sleeps, where she has eaten and where she lives. She forgets that this is her space and stands blankly, gracelessly and not at all in a manner that particularly becomes a Princess while she tries to remember the proper etiquette for this, which she hasn't ever been taught. The desire to hide behind Ka Kobun, have him sheild her like he always seems to, from the things she's not ready for, can't handle until she can remember and she can; it's there and she gives in immediately and he doesn't even let go of her hand.

In the middle of the room the Prime Minister looks for her, his eyebrows knitted together when he can spot her cowering away childishly before he scuttles over like he's one of the servants, scooting right past Ka Kobun like he's nothing but a beaded curtain, the bravado and grace from the courts curiously absent and Kougyoku is lead to believe that the Prime Minister of Sindria has put on the best show she's ever seen.

"Someone will come to take you to the caravan outside of the Palace soon, Princess. For now, sit."

"Y-yes, of course." It's probably what she needs, anyways, to be instructed. Kougyoku dithers in the middle of the floor, people rushing about her and there's a sense of irreparable loss etched in her face and seeping through the cracks to make the displacement of it all worse. She can hardly remember where to sit, like an amnesiac in a new place, confused and disoriented and a little lost. Fingers brush the inside of her wrist- oh that's hardly proper at all.

Kougyoku shies away, looking back to the floor instead of somewhere in the air. A touch on her shoulder.

"Princess, if you'll follow?"

Oh.

"Oh."

The Prime Minister's kindly smile is almost like a parent guiding a child and his hand tries for Kougyoku's smaller one, encouraging and cool. She's so busy being glad for the direction that her pride doesn't sting at the patronization and she follows him blindly with Ka Kobun after her, to a small box in the corner that's suitable for suiting them both.

"You may rest there. From then, we may discuss today's events, but for now-"

The Prime Minister looks to Ka Kobun with great gravity and Kougyoku's hand is crushed painfully in his.

"for now, you might want to say your goodbyes."

And if it all comes together now, all the near imperceptible differences in the day, it's too late. The apologies in the morning, the looks, the hugs; all of it wrenches at Kougyoku's heart like great beasts are ripping it out of her chest and in pieces in front of everyone and will not even leave the remains so that she could maybe have a chance of fixing the damage.

"I will leave you two alone, for the time. I will come when the caravan is ready."

Kougyoku does not pay the Prime Minister any attention as he rounds up his soldiers, his men and ushers them all out the room like a clucking mother hen.

To say the least, it is a tearful goodbye.

To say the most, it destroys her on levels none will ever brush to take this extension of her soul, tangible and so loved for standing beside her in her isolation and sorrow, her weakest and strongest. The grief is strong enough to bow her back and the press of it drives her to put her face in his golden robes and this is like the loss of a limb; shock that stops her from so much as breathing, almost.

"I will not leave you, Kobun, they will have to pry you from my arms, so help-"

And then Kougyoku stops. She could say that she will not leave him, she could tell him that they may separate their dead bodies, but not before, but she does not have the force behind her words to make them credible. It's an impossibility for her to defy Kouen's steel, bright ringing commands. She has flown continents at his beck and call and murdered and pillaged for him, but cannot speak up against him if it saves her what is most precious.

"Princess."

Ka Kobun tugs away and her thoughts spiral from grieving circles to furious indignation, and Kougyoku scrambles to keep his hands exactly where they are, spoiled on his presence and unable to let go until he forces them away because it is enough that she will lose him at all and she, at least, should have as much time as there is left.

"Kougyoku!"

His thundering voice echoes in the emptiness of Kougyoku's bedroom and his nails dig painfully into her wrists from where he's grabbed them and she curls around the emptiness inside her, in towards him and he lets her hole up and hide against him, but Ka Kobun does not let her see him cry, holds faster to her when she tries to move to be able to. It doesn't matter, though, because it's hard not to feel the shaky breathing on the top of her head or the wet spots in her hair.

Every second that passes is one that he uses to clutch Kougyoku tighter and tighter against him and she do not know how he has been strong enough to carry this information for any amount of time, but he speaks like a dying man delivering his last will and testament.

"I have never done anything but what is best for you."

His hand rubs up and down her back and she despises the way her body goes lax like she may as well have been poisoned with paralytics.

"The First Prince has a plan."

Of course he does. Brother En always has a plan.  
Kougyoku doesn't want to hear any more of Kouen's plans.

Ka Kobun stops speaking. And because she cannot bear to imagine spending any moment that might be to her last arguing with her Ka Kobun, Kougyoku stays silent too.

Ka Kobun is the only person to sit with her in the empty room while Kougyoku becomes even more familiar with the sensation of her world crumbling.

And everything but time stays still for a little while, at least, until it runs out and she must act on the goodbyes they have not really said.

It's unfair, when the Prime Minister politely knocks on the heavy wooden doors of the bedroom that used to be hers, but she's good at dealing with unfair because there never seems to be any other option that ends with her life being spared.

Sindria is beautiful. Sunny, blue skies and bluer water on all sides. Interesting people and kindness aplenty.

Sinbad is beautiful too, more than Kougyoku's ever been. Handsome smile and tawny eyes and chivalry embodied with the strength to carry the world on his shoulders.

But Sindria isn't Kou. It's not Rakushoku. It's not home and there are people, yes, but they're not Judar. They don't call her strong. They're not Kouha or Koumei or Kouen, who are gathered in the courtyard to watch her go. They don't call her family and they do not wipe their eyes discreetly while Kougyoku leave.

She's to be set back to zero, when she goes. All of her hard work, effort and blood and sweat and tears, so many tears that she could have made the seas again and oh- one's fallen on her hand. Kougyoku didn't realize she'd started crying.

Her sinuses promptly clog up, a one way ticket to misery, a destination she's only been at all morning.

The hopelessness weighs in heavy while Kougyoku walks, measured and step by quiet step out of the front courtyard, where people gather to watch her hurried last minutes. The caravans in front are homely, well used and sturdy and from them, the Prime Minister emerges with a polite smile that feels false, detached.

But everything in front of her feels like that, right now.

Ka Kobun pushes Kougyoku forward, his broad hands light on her back. You cannot look back, she tells herself, but she does anyways. Her beautiful Ka Kobun looks to her with his slightly crooked nose and sombre golden eyes and he pushes her forward again, one last time, to two rows of Seven Seas Alliance Representatives, to remind her of where she belongs when she can't remember herself.

She follows his lead and there's no feeling of something keeping her from walking away, like she thought there would be. There's nothing, either way. No draw forward, no yank backward, and Kougyoku will forever swear that it's really not that it's because she's given up, she just- she can't.

Kougyoku doesn't really know, anymore, what's worth fighting for. If Kouen's plans are worth waiting for and if she should trust her own direction quite yet so she doesn't have to wait and the loss of direction from not knowing if she can trust anymore, it makes the pain worse till it overrides the burning pride in her that could have made her angry.

Kougyoku walks forward, just like Ka Kobun taught her, because he is the only thing left.

Chin up, shoulders back. Straight face and lowered eyes.

Measured and prideful, humble and graceful.

The representatives, some of the most influential in the world, one by one, drop to their knees as Kougyoku walks by, genuflecting like she's a Queen already; like she's _their_ Queen already.

Finally, she are steps only from becoming everything she wanted to be, a Princess, a Queen, a wife. It burns like coals thrust into her chest and in her hands and in her mouth and eyes.

There is nothing left to do, really, and she might bow, but she is kneeling in submission and her arms might look like they raise up to hide her face away, but really, she is raising them in surrender.

"Prime Minister, I thank you and your King for your warm welcome. I am eager to serve you well as a benevolent Queen."

With tears on her cheeks and a choked, pained voice, Kougyoku thinks that it must be awful luck to begin with a lie, and she gets in the caravan before she humiliates herself further.


End file.
